A View from the Gallery
by X5Fan
Summary: A reporter from a legeitamate newspaper is assigned to find out the real deal with the transgenics. From his point of view. Max and the others are going from place to place because White's pressure is getting worse than ever, they'll be in the story soon.
1. Default Chapter

A View From The Gallery

AN: This has been running through my head since a few episodes into Season 2. I'm not really sure how well this will be received, so please R&R and let me know!

Disclaimer: I don't own any DA characters that will be coming into the story, and the title actually comes from a Babylon 5 episode, I couldn't resistJ 

"…and finally, Ames White, along with the entire FBI organization, once again send out their warnings of the transgenic menaces now on the loose throughout the nation. They ask you to please call our hotline number with any information you may have. We are asked to please leave their actual capture to professionals, and to maintain out distance from them. According to the FBI, some of them are capable of acting as though harmless, but we are warned to please remember at all times that their true nature is for killing and that they are highly dangerous. Again, our number is 555-748-6331." The screen froze at the click of the remote control.

"This, ladies and gentlemen, is the purpose of this meeting." My boss's voice rang out though the room. In his late 50's and balding, the man still contained this power that made everyone in the room notice him with no effort whatsoever on his part. When that voice sounded, everyone in the room snapped to attention.

"Supposedly you can call that number just to find out more specific details on the transgenics, even if you don't have information. I've tried, and when I'd asked what the hell this whole storm was about, I was transferred to a recording that listed abilities to watch for to identify a transgenic, and that if you are discovered to have witnessed these abilities without reporting them then you are subject to arrest. That's it. It didn't say what they want, where and how their striking, or why the FBI thinks anyone in their right minds would think that their next door neighbor is a genetically engineered killing machine and _not_ turn them in to authorities. Those are the things that everybody wants to know but nobody but those tight-lipped political bastards does. Even Eyes Only hasn't been able to dig up anything on the transgenics. So we are. We can't find anything out through sources, because none of them know either. So we go in first-hand."

Hensky pauses to let that sink in to everyone, sharp eyes studying our faces. From what I can tell, most seem to be debating whether they can should dash for the door and run like hell or just tough it out and pray to God that he doesn't choose them. I myself am experimenting with the latter, an interesting experience since, ten seconds previous, I'd been an atheist. 

It's not that I'm a coward or anything, it's just that the term "genetically engineered killing machines" doesn't tend to lend much to the life expectancy of someone spying on them.

"By all means, feel free to contain your excitement. Anyway, I'll end the cutthroat clamoring for the job now, because I've decided that…" And I still have things that I want to get out of life; I still haven't gotten that one big break that'll kick off my career, that might make someone recognize my name when they read a story I do, or, for that matter, have my mother say something other than "he's still experimenting with jobs" when people ask her what I'm doing. "Dan will be the one to pull this story off. Dan, meet me in my office in 5, I'll run you through what I want. He turns and strides out the door, completely oblivious to how he's just changed the mood in the room from bored and dreamy to funeral-parlor stiff. 

"Tough luck Dan." Ryan finally says, looking slightly pale as he stares at me from across the table. Mickey gives a hoot of laughter and slaps me jovially on the shoulder. 

"Right, poor Dan getting chosen as the soon-to -be most famous reporter in the country." He grins at me. "Hey, seeing as we're close, personal friends and all, soon as your next paycheck comes in, you wouldn't mind sharing the wealth a little would you?" I can see straight though his little speech, and I know he's worried but trying to build up my confidence and take the spotlight off my suspected imminent death. I can play along with that. Putting on my broadest grin I force a laugh.

"Sure Mick, soon as you hook me up with your sister." Mickey rolls his eyes as snickers break out. He'd promised to talk his sister into meeting me two summers ago, and had come back from his sister's place with no explanation for canceling and a broken nose. The weight in the room lifts, and nobody's staring at me like I'm on death row anymore as I get up to meet Hensky in his office. I do feel better.

"Thanks Mick." I say softly as I go past him. He gives me the thumbs-up sign as I head out the door.

So, do you think it'll be good? Either way, let me know.

When the next chapter comes is directly related to how much homework my teachers give me, but I'll try to make it soon.


	2. Assignment

AN: Thankyou so much to those of you who reviewed. I'm guessing my next chapter will take about the same amount of time, but the more reviews I get, the more I feel inspired to write, so please review! 

Chapter 2

"Come in Dan." In my entire time of working here, I've never once had to knock. It used to mystify me, but now I'm about 99% sure that he's got the place bugged. Even the best of bosses like to keep tabs on their employees I guess. I stand uncertainly at the door.

"Have a seat." He gestures invitingly to a chair, smiling reassuringly. I sit, still silently. One of the most important rules about being in Hensky's office is let him talk first.

"I saw the look on your face when I said that I was giving you this assignment," he starts in with no preamble, "and I'm sorry, but you're the only one in this company that I really think can handle this, and d@mn it you deserve this Dan. Nobody works as hard as you do, you work overtime to make sure you've got all the facts, you take on any assignment, no complaints, and pull it off, and you make sure everybody knows what's going on with the big boys in politics." He pauses. Palms down in front of him, he leans across the desk, looking me in the eye, unblinking. All the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I start to squirm. "This story though," he continues, a new edge of urgency in his voice. "This is the one that could get you your name in news history." I swallow hard. He's just named my one great wish, and stupid as the rational part of my mind told me it was, I was already tempted.

"This story, it's got government cover-up, genetics research, and weapons technology in the form of a bunch of transgenics that are running all over the country. It's the story of a lifetime." He pauses, studying my face intently. The irony of his last word choice isn't lost on me. Story of a lifetime. Yeah, I guess it is. It'll either be the story that cuts my life short or the story that'll take my life on the highway. It's an intrigue too, from what he said…

"Government cover-up?" The words just penetrated, and he has my full, rapt attention now. He smiles crookedly, leaning back in his chair, all traces of tension gone.

"Glad I've at least got your curiosity now." 

"Get to the point, what was all that stuff you said?" The government was involved in making … weapons technology? WTF? That seems even more dark and juicy than most of the stuff I dig up on those b@stards. Hensky pulls out a file from under his desk and pushes it over to me. 

"Everything you need to know is in there, but if you don't want to wade through all the formal reports, the short and sweet of it is that the government was doing some heavy stuff back in the 90's, all top secret. That's where all these transgenics come from." He's leaning back in his reclining chair, hands folded casually across his chest, using the same kind of tone that he'd use to explain where mailmen come from to his daughter. I can only stare, prickles in my spine for what he's saying, but deeply impressed by how he manages to say it. He continues, completely oblivious. 

"Scientists and some military personnel were assigned to Project Manticore, to design and train 'perfect' soldiers, make sure it stayed hush-hush, and do a bunch of research on the side. Don't know who screwed up, but some their 'perfect soldiers got out when they were kids, then went back and burned the place down 12 years later, let all the others out, and now the country's got hundreds of threats to national security." He shakes his head. "Kinda scary what a bunch of people with loads of brains but no common sense can accomplish when they _really_ put their minds to it." The prickles I my spine seem to have gone en route throughout the rest of my nervous system, but my reporter train of thought kick in pushing everything else back. 

"They just 'got out'? Why? Better question, how?" I ask quizzically, a million thoughts racing through my head, studying the story analytically. "A place like that must've had more security than the Pentagon. There's no way any kid would've made a try for something like that." Not unless they had a death-wish anyway. And why would a bunch of…human weapons-systems… turn on their own people? Unless they were made to like killing so much that they didn't care who it was that they were attacking. If there was that little control on them when they were kids…we really had a problem. 

"Jeez, Dan haven't you seen the hoverdrone footage they got on one of these things once? Hensky asks me breezily, still perfectly at ease."White's people thought they had one of these things cornered, it fought its way through a bunch of people, then more of em came in out of nowhere and helped it out, they all got away untouched. That's the only time they've caught it on tape, but it happens a lot. They're tough."

"I don't credit much that gets put on t.v. anymore." I comment dryly. "I figured White just put that out to make people believe that they were closer to catching a transgenic, make people think his little agency's actually doing shit. Besides, how would any of the others have known so fast that one of theirs was in trouble? There's no way they could have gotten there that fast."

"They've got a system." Hensky supplies readily, a superior quirk on his mouth. "I don't know how they get word of who's in trouble, but, with a few sparatic exceptions, some of them keep on staying a step ahead, always the same eight. Leader's a guy called Max. Him and his crew sweep in and save the day 9 times out of ten when White's people get a lead. But like I said, it's all in the packet." There's a touch of impatience in his voice now, the signal to get down to business. I pocket my curiosity away for later analysis. One small step for man…

"What do you want me to do?"

"What I need you to do," Hensky continues, well satisfied now that the conversation is under his direction, is find out whether these things are really as bad as White's people say they are. Now, they plow through anybody that gets in their way, so they're _potentially_ dangerous, but so far they haven't killed anybody. That could mean that they don't want to, or it could mean that they're in too much of a hurry to bother, or that they want people to think that they're victims, get the public upper-hand. We don't know."

"And what am I…" he rolls over top of my words, not missing a beat.

"But when you go to the next spot where White's going to go in watch the fight, trail them as far as you can, with the S-15's you'll be able to show the whole country which way their insticts tend towards; whether they actually avoid killing, or whether they start and then think better of it. When you get back, you'll be able to put that footage with all the proof I've gathered on what the government did. It'll give all the answers that White won't give, and it'll be the biggest story in history." 

He used that word again. History. The chance to make myself bigger than a second-rate writer, just barely making it. Bigger than what anyone could ever say about me, and the people who were saying it. Temptation beckons to me, calls to me. 

__

Don't even think about it. That hateful lifesaving part of my mind chimes in again. _He wants you to follow transgenics. Screw **potentially** dangerous, you really want to play the odds on whether they'll kill you or not?_ Not really. Desperately trying to convince myself that this is sense, not cowardice talking, I look up at Hensky, ready to tell him that I can't do this one. His eyes have sharpened on me. For the most part he's an okay guy, but the more he wants story, the edgier he gets. Judging by the tension in his shoulders, he must be ready to kill for this one. Can't really blame him considering everything involved. This story's going to be amazing… I take a breath. I'm not passing up the chance of a lifetime, I'm passing up an invitation to get myself killed. 

He must see it in my eyes, he cuts me off, a new edge in his voice.

"I hate to do this to you Dan, but, this isn't optional. You don't do this story, you don't work here anymore." 

"Sir…" I stop at a look from him. Eyes of steel stare across at me, unblinking, unbending. He's never done this to anyone before. He's always been understanding and, as a general rule, pretty forgiving when someone decides that their story was too big for them to tackle. It's never occurred to me to turn down a story before, but with other people, he deducts their pay for awile, and gets someone else to do it. _But no one else is going to do this one_, I realize. The looks on their faces, they must have known he was going to do this, I was an idiot not to. 

I can't afford to not have this job, I'm stretched thin as it is. I'd lose my apartment, and the only other place I could go is home. Level-headed, intelligent person that I like to think myself to be, swallowing my pride and going crawling back to my mother…no. 

"I'll take it then." Even to my own ears, my voice sounds smaller than usual, but now that I've made my decision, I'm sticking to it. Hensky smiles, relaxed again.

"Glad to hear it. The next lead site is in the packet, and everything you need; the S-15's, supplies, whatever, will be in your office by the time you get back." His reaches out and shakes my hand. "I'm not going to waste any more of your time when you need to be leaving soon. Good Luck Dan." That's the signal to go. I rise to leave, feeling a little light-headed with how fast everything is moving. One more question just occurred to me though. I turn back as I open the door.

"How do you know all this sir? There hasn't been anywhere near that kind of information on the news." His eyes harden a little, and the smile becomes more forced.

"I have my resources. It's nothing you need to be concerned about." I wasn't really expecting much more of an answer. I close the door behind me and head to my office. Need to check and find out there I'm going, and then, I might as well start packing.

AN: Okay, preliminaries are pretty much over, the plot's really going to pick up in the next chapter or two. What do you think?


	3. In the Field

AN: THANKYOU ALL REVIEWERS! Again, I'm really sorry this took so long, I hope the length makes up for it. When school lets out in a couple weeks, I should be writing much faster, but I should have another chapter in 2-3 weeks. (Bows to all reviewers) Keep up the feedback please!

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Chapter 3

A misty rain drizzles into my cup. Oh, L.A. City of Angels, city of smog, city of really shitty coffee. I've been sitting in the same hard-plastic seat outside of a little bakery/café for about six hours now, reordering the stuff so they can't kick me out, so by now I consider myself to be quite qualified in the area of coffee judging. 

And why am I sitting here? Because according to my wonderful boss, White's people are going to go after a transgenic somewhere on this street, sometime today. Of course, with all his resources at his beck and call, he just couldn't manage to get the exact address, or time, so I had to wander up and down the street until this place opened, and when I finally got off my feet and sat at one of their outdoor tables (naturally there isn't a shop on this entire street that has indoor seating) it started to rain.

Admittedly, I'd be in far better humor about the situation if I'd been able to get to a sleep last night, but the airport "just happened" to lose all of my luggage, and I was stupid enough to leave the better part of my money hidden in one of those bags. What's left is rapidly being spent on coffee, so I can watch the street as unconspicuously as I can manage, but since there's no where else for me to move to, that isn't much.

Only stroke of any luck whatsoever that I've had is that I put the S-15's in my carry-on. Basically they're recording contacts, fresh technology that just got put on the market, and isn't very well known about. Perfect for a reporter. If I'd lost them, not only would Hensky kill me for how much the things costed him but I'd lose my chance at the whole story, and would have found myself without a job, if not a pulse.

I'd put them in this morning so I would be able to catch anything that happened from the start, but so far all they've had the chance to record are people on their way to work, people who are dressed like they should be at work, but aren't, and some homeless people across the street. Also some very nice shots of graffiti on the dull gray walls of the nearby buildings, and the periodic contents of my coffee mug. For a story that's supposed to be the biggest in history, so far all it has is a remedy for insomnia.

I glance at my watch. 12:00. Lunch hour. On cue, the door of the office building across the street opens, and people trickle out, all headed for here. I snap out of my funk and watch them slant-wase. Whoever White's supposed to pick up today, they've gotta work somewhere on this street. I direct my attention to each person who sits at the tables around me, trying to narrow the choices down and see if I can pick out a transgenic.

"If I ever see another data-file, it'll be too soon." I start with the two at the table in front and to the right of me. The first guy who spoke is in his early thirties, according to the files Hensky gave me, too old, but his companion looks younger, in his twenty's, brown hair, good looking, he fits the profile of a…what was that age-group…X5. He could be one. I keep watching casually as he laughs a little at the first guy's comment.

"Isn't your day than, boss had you on the list to work late again tonight." The younger man seems to take enormous pleasure in this, dark eyes glinting wickedly as his friend gives a theatric groan. Could definitely be it. The waitress reaches their table, and he turns in his head up to order, giving me a view of the back of his neck. I scan it carefully, blood beginning to sound in my ears. No barcode, and no signs of the removal of one. A little bit of disappointment flickers across my mind as I write him off as human, but I squash it out. Just because he's in his twenties and not ugly doesn't make him an X5. Disappointment is replaced with irritation for getting myself so tense. I turn my attention to the next table over, which easily has the loudest and most animated people in the café.

"Come on, you don't really believe all that crap about a bunch of transgenic maniacs 'wandering the streets among us' do you? Gimme a break."

This one is sandy-haired, tanned, and approximately the right age, but way too solid in his disbelief for it to be an act. And his buddy and him are both attracting way too much attention for someone who's on the run. Not transgenics, but the conversation is definitely worth listening to, even just for the entertainment value.

"Ya never know. All that technological crap they can pull off now, I can see somebody pulling off making a bunch of mutants. Don't know why they would, but…and that guy White is always goin on about how people need ta be on alert…"

"White's a paranoid lunatic." Sandy-hair cuts him off with flat certainty. "The only reason he has whatever authority he's got is because he can grease the wheels. The guy belongs in a nuthouse, but since he isn't, everyday people like you and me gotta suffer for it."

The next trickle of workers pours out of a building, and I scan them for more likelies, abandoning the conversation for a moment, but this business is more upper-class, with older workers all dressed in formals. Not very encouraging, but it's less people to scan. I start to turn to another table older when Sandy-hair smacks the other gut upside the head.

"Don't you know anything? It hasn't reached this far yet, but in SEATTLE, White n his crew are starting the Spanish Inquisition. Door to door 'Have you seen anyone demonstrate unusual abilities? Do you know anyone who you suspect of being a transgenic? Does anyone you know have unusual behavior?' On and On." He leans over his food, and his voice finally drops. "And I've heard, if White doesn't like something someone says, that person gets loaded into a car, and nobody sees em again. The guy's looking for things that don't exist, and he's killing people trying to find em." He shakes his head. "Just a matter of time til…"

An enormous crash splits the air, cutting off the rest of his response. I spin to see shards of glass falling to the ground, streaming from a 4th story window about 200 yards down the street. A large, lumpish figure is falling with them.

The whole sleepy street seems to wake up at once. Everywhere, people are screaming. Military suddenly appear all around the building with the broken window, pouring out the doors, running out of alleys, shouting orders. Gunshots ring through the air as the crowd of soldiers blocks my view of what's going on. 

It takes me a second to realize that I'm still sitting down at my table, I'm so caught up in absorbing how fast everything happened. It takes me another second to realize what I should be doing. Then I'm on my feet, running toward the soldiers, or after the soldiers, since they're on the move now. Deciding that they must have more of an idea of where it's headed than I do, I pick one soldier to keep in my sight and follow him.

This puts me at a disadvantage, since out of the entire crowd, I'm the only one headed in this direction. The soldier has no problems whatsoever, the crowd parts around the weapon he has in his hands, but immediately closes in around me. He gains more and more of a lead as I'm jostled, slammed into, knocked sliding to the ground, stepped on, and stand up to have the process repeated. 

By the time the throng of people passes, I'm battered and bruised, and there's no trace of the soldier. There's no trace of anybody, the shouts of the soldiers have faded, as have the gunshots, leaving only an eerie silence. They couldn't have gotten that far, I only went down a couple streets. I pick up a jog and start to search, turning onto random streets when one direction leads to nothing.

None have any trace of anyone. The residents are probably hiding, but where the hell did White's military get to? I finally stop to catch my breath, trying to visualize the crash course I gave myself in L.A.'s **gergraphy. **There must be some hiding place, some abandoned spot where they've holed up. Maybe down in… 

Shadows flicker across my face. People! I look around, no one, nothing, but the shadows keep coming from…up. I can't see well against the glare of the sun but dark shapes are going gracefully overtop of me from building to building. There's people flying up there. I stare for a second, awestruck, before realizing how ridiculous that is. I knew I was going to see weird stuff after I read that packet, I shouldn't be off-balanced this much. Weird stuff means their transgenics, and transgenics mean that I've got to follow them.

I don't jog, I run. As fast as I can to keep the shadows in sight. I was on the track team in college a couple years ago, and I was good, but the distance between me and the dark blots is rapidly growing. After following for a little ways it dawns on me that they're moving in a straight line, so I stop making sure they're in sight and just run for all I'm worth. 

Sounds are coming again: engines, tires squealing, people cursing…and the guns. I hate guns. Following those sounds, I enter a street that's become a war-zone. 

The lead jeep has screeched to a halt, tire marks trailing 10 feet behind it. The rest of them are in various states of disorder, armed men pouring out of them, but I pay them no mind, the main attraction is all to the front. All of the soldiers there are unconscious, littered around the ground, but there's someone with long hair, a girl, hunched over in the back. The click of the guns surrounding the jeep stops me mid-stride from getting a closer look. A blur of a falling form falls across my line of vision, knocking 6 men to the ground, then leaping clear as the gunfire starts. The rest of the men start shouting, and the guns change position towards the sky, where people are dropping, mimicking the first in hit-and-run attacks. 

The group Hensky was talking about, they're here. I retreat farther into the shadows, but try to keep them all in sight. They're amazing…moving faster than I can see, dodging bullets, jumping up to the rooftops of the lower buildings, disappearing, then reappearing to tackle another bunch of soldiers, always moving, forwards, backwards, sideways, but never running into each other. I can't help feeling a little awed terror of anything that can move like that. The soldiers can't keep one consistent target, and they're firing but not hitting anything but air. They're starting to fall, and havok is breaking loose. The girl in the truck, who I'd almost forgotten about, seems to notice this at the same time I do. She bolts from the truck in a blur, with another one, a male who I hadn't seen in there, close on her heels. 

They blur, leaping on top of a convenient store, racing across, then up again to a higher building. The others follow suit, dissolving back into the recesses. The only ones left are the two from the jeep. Staying in the shadows, I follow them, trying to keep my eyes on them at all times so the S-15s can catch everything. They're jumping, running, plunging, running…An explosion of sound from right behind me, and the male, which had gotten a little bit of a lead, falls forward, even from where I am, I can see the sparkling redness coating his back. The female falters for a second, then without breaking stride, scoops him up in her arms and ducks away, sprays of bullets following her retreat. 

I keep on following, trying to keep her in my sight as the soldiers pursue. My common sense tells me that if I don't get killed by one of the transgenics in front of me, I'm just as likely to get shot by the soldiers behind me, but after seeing everything I've just seen, my investigative journalism urges are fighting it down, and I barely notice. The transgenics fade out of sight- again. D@mn these things are hard to get hold of. I don't stop this time though, I just keep on going in the same general direction and hope for the best. The soldiers that were behind me don't seem to have my faith, their footsteps slow down and draw to a halt.

"Freeze!" Oh shit. I freeze. I'm not even breathing. Do they think I'm a transgenic? What'll they do to me if they think so? Will they believe me if I tell them I'm not? The click of boots on metal signals the approach of three men as they come around me, levering their guns. I am so dead. 

The two on either side exchange knowing glances, then get ready to pull their triggers. The milli-seconds tick by, and I'm like a deer caught in headlights. I'm gonna die. They'rer going to kill me. It was the story of a lifetime. That was the stupidest thing I've ever done, running in front of the soldiers, in the same direction as the transgenics. What else would these guys think but that I'm just slower than the others because I'm wounded or something? I brace myself for the gunshot, but the middle guy, the leader, holds up a hand and looks me up and down thoughtfully.

"You're Hensky's guy." Not a question, a statement, but I answer anyway. 

"Yea, Yeah. He sent me to…" He doesn't seem very happy that I'm talking, so I shut up. He frowns at me another second before waving a hand signal to the men behind me. The boot-clicks begin again and fade away. The leader and the two other guys in front of me follow suit, striding past me without sparing me so much as a glance. After a couple of minutes, I can hear the jeeps start back up again, they just left me here. 

I realize that I still haven't moved since they told me to freeze, and consciously make myself step forward and keep going. Deep breaths, one foot in front of the other, and repeat. I don't think I've ever felt that precise degree of terror in my life. Lucky the middle guy saw there was no wound on me and figured out that I wasn't a transgenic. Worked out lucky for me, but the fact that he knew that Henaky sent me is so not good. That means White knows, which means he's watching us- tapped into Hensky's cameras or something, making sure we don't drag any skeletons out of the closet. I should let Hensky know about that when I get back. If White finds out what we're doing for stories, then he could sell a warning to whoever or whatever it is, we wouldn't get the story…it'd be a mess. Worked out well for me short-term though, since he warned his guys not to kill me, but I'd really like to know why he's choosing to let me keep on going on this story. Either he's got nothing to hide, but keeping a lot of stuff from the public, meaning he's got his own agenda, makes that incredibly doubtful; or he doesn't think I've got much of a chance of catching up with them again, which is incredibly discouraging.

I'm out of the city now, and at the edge of the surrounding forest. It's getting later in the day, and dark shadows are slanting through the tree-leaves, making them look somewhat less than inviting. My body utters a loud complaint at the thought of moving again, but I'm still wrapped up in the story. The things I saw those things do today…Reasonably, at the pace they were moving those things are long gone by now, but since I don't know that for sure, I'll try for just a little longer.

I watch everywhere; the sky, the trees, and the ground. Nothing shows up, just squirrels, birds, and the deepening shadows. After another half-hour or so, I'm about ready to turn back. If I haven't found them by now, all I've done is throw myself farther off the trail, and I haven't got any food or water, nothing to keep me going to start again tomorrow. One last glance around puts my senses on alert. There's a shadow on the ground that's moving…and visibly getting bigger. I only have a brief time to puzzle over this before blackness envelops me.


	4. Nice to meet you

AN: Yes! I am still alive and writing this! (touches head to ground and begs forgiveness for the long wait) School finals and projects gave me no time to write for about a month. I'm really sorry. If you're still reading this though, please leave a review. Now that my school is out for summer break, I should have more time to write. Oh, some of you guessed that the wounded transgenic was Alec. Sorry, but aside from maybe being mentioned later, Alec's not really in this story. The eight transgenics are Max and the remaining original escapees. I thought about putting Alec in, but decided against it because I really want to get the feeling of family across to my character. Alec's like a brother to Max now (excuse me M/A shippers), but he wouldn't fit in with the rest of them. I'm glad you read into it enough to make a guess though, I love your reviews!

Chapter 4

I wake up slowly, my head feeling like someone's driving a stake through it. The first thing that I realize is that I'm lying on something hard, namely the ground. The second thing I realize, which sparks about as much enthusiasm as the first, is that I'm not alone. There are scraping and plopping sounds coming from directly to my right, and low mutterings that slowly come into focus as I come to. 

"I still don't see why we have to take him with us. He's not bugged or anything, and he hasn't seen a whole lot. Why didn't we just let him go?" This from a soft, light female voice that sounds more annoyed than concerned.

"Tess, come on, think. First of all even if we did let him go, he'd have no way of getting back to wherever he came from because now that we've moved him, there's no way he can have any idea where he is. Second, there's no guarantee that he'll even try to go back, for all we know he could just keep on following us." This one's a guy, and I'm getting the feeling that these aren't search and rescue workers. 

"That's his problem. If the little weasel hadn't been following us in the first place, he wouldn't be lost." This from another male, and these are definitely not rescuers, but what else would they be? Who else would find me out here in the middle of the forest?

I open my eyes slowly and sit up a little bit, easing myself into a semi-sitting position. I'm in a thinner part of the forest than I was, but it's far from being a clearing. The sunlight still waning through the trees tells me that I've either only been out for a couple of hours, it's still not quite dusk. I don't know why, but the last thing I notice is the girl, well, woman staring back at me with the most unfathomable brown eyes I've ever seen. There are other people too, all around this little clearing, but she's the only one that seems vaguely familiar. It takes me a second, but then it hits me. The girl in the truck. Oh. My. God. I can feel the blood drain from my face, and I start to quiver.

"Y-you're a…you were the girl in the…you're an X-5." That's the most intelligent comment that I can manage as I scramble away on my elbows, anxious to put as much distance between it and myself as I can. I end up hitting my head against a tree, and through the added haze of pain, I can see its face cloud with a mixture of disdain and some other emotion that leaves as quickly as it appeared. 

"You don't need to be afraid. We're not gonna hurt you." It tells me quietly. Whether or not that that was meant to be reassuring, it isn't. I'm way too caught up in the fact that I'm face to face with eight transgenic killing machines to be easily calmed on their say-so. A male with dark brown hair and eyes, who for some reason is caked in dirt, spares a glance at the girl before turning to me.

"We'll see. What were you doing following us?" If looks could kill, I'd be 6 feet under from the look this one is throwing at me. Half out of loyalty to my corporation, half because sheer terror seems to have taken a hold on my vocal cords, I keep my silence. It stares a moment longer, then shoots a triumphant look at the one who's still crouched on the ground, and to the rest of them, who have all dropped whatever they were doing to watch. The one on the ground glares up at the perpetrator, but the others' faces have all become eerily blank. They've formed a half-circle around the female, which makes that the leader I guess.

"What do you want from us?" I'm starting come out of hysteria enough to notice that while the leader's voice is just as demanding as the male's, it somehow manages to sound less likely to kill me if it doesn't like my answer.

"I-I don't want anything…I was just…I was passing through…" 

"Cut the bullshit. You were following us. Who are you working for? White? Lydecker? Or has someone else decided it'd be handy to have their own collection of freaks?" It's voice takes on a cold, sarcastic toneas fire starts to build in its eyes. I start to sweat. I really don't want to push their patience levels, but I'm not going to say who I work for and get Hensky and the rest blown up or shot or something. 

It seems to notice my current sweaty, quivering physical state. It stands up and looks down at me, fire turned back to stone.

"We're gonna have a long time to talk about this. We'll do it again another time." 

Three or four of the others meet this comment with instant protest.

"Max are you nuts? We can't take him with us!"

"Do you have any idea how much he's gonna slow us down?!"

"You didn't even try to get it out of him…"

The words all distort and blend together as I sink back to the ground. A long time to talk about it. To talk, I have to be alive. They're not going to kill me. One very small voice in my brain adds a large '**Yet**'to the end of the sentence, but I refuse to worry about that right now. I'm alive now, if I'm careful, maybe I'll stay that way. After a lifetime of taking that for granted, it's amazing how wonderful that seems right now. 

The X-5s are starting to wind down out of their argument. The male that had spoken before casts one fury-filled look at me then stalks away. The head female watches him go for a second, then settles on her heels next to a tree, eyes closed. The others have all dispersed into two groups, one behind me, one in front. 

With the overt hostility dying down, I start to feel comfortable enough to get my bearings. All together there're eight transgenics in the group, assuming that the one who left comes back. I hadn't been able to do a definite headcount in the city, but I'm pretty sure there were nine all together in the city. Maybe the one they rescued left already? Or maybe I didn't see one here…I wait for one of the transgenics in front of me to look at me, then make sure to maintain eye-contact as I rise slowly from my back and sit up. I do not want to have a misunderstanding with one of these things. It rolls its eyes at my efforts and turns its attention back to its group-mates. I breathe a sigh of triumphant relief. I'm making progress here. I look around me for any uncounted transgenic. The two that had gone behind me are now up in a tree, and there's no sign of the male that left, but that still makes eight, with nothing else around me except grass and a pile of dirt over to my right. Pile of dirt. A grave. Oh.

I don't bother to move around any more, no one bothers to pay me any more attention than to keep a cold, consistent eye on me. Like I'm really going to try to just make a break for it with seven trained killers as guards. Almost an hour passes this way, and with nothing else to think about, another reason to stay, other than the obvious, occurs to me. When I first woke up, they were talking about how I wasn't bugged, so I wasn't really dangerous. I'd check later tonight to be sure, but I'm almost positive that they hadn't found the S-15's. They were still on, and I was going to be able to get first-hand footage of them for a long time, until they decide what they're going to do with me long-term anyway. Eventually, maybe I'll even be able to get them talking, telling the truth about what the heck was going through their heads when they ran away from their masters, how they're planning on dealing with White, what do they really think of humans, the possibilities are limitless. By the time I get back, I'll be able to give an even better story than Hensky could have ever dreamed of. Provided that the X-5s ever let me go anyway. 

I'm brought back out of my reverie by the unanimous turn of attention around me. Following their gaze as they start to stand up and move around again, I can see what I'd thought was a shadow slowly turn into the male that had most strongly wanted me gone. 

" Terk he's scared already. You're gonna give him nightmares or something if he sees that." A troubled female greets him as he comes out of the woods.

"So what? Just because some spying little rat is following us around, we have to go out of our way to make him happy? Let him think what he wants, I'm through with that shit." The male is close enough now that I can see him clearly, and the object of the female's concern is immediately evident. There're several limp forms hanging from one of his hands. I close my eyes to fight a sudden wave of nausea. They were rabbits that didn't have a mark on them. It killed them with his bare hands. It went out and caught prey like an animal. Somebody tell me he's not going to eat them raw. 

The crackling of a fire answers my doubt to the last, and calms me down a little bit, but I still can't seem to open my eyes. The smell of cooked rabbit begins to reach my nostrils with every breath that I take. Cooked rabbit that had just barely been killed. Breathing through my mouth is no help at all. It just brings hints of flavor. I'm still struggling with how to settle my queasy stomach without passing out from lack of oxygen when a light tap on my shoulder makes me jump about a foot. The same female who was concerned about what my reaction would be to seeing a fresh rabbit brought in and cooked is looking down at me with a crooked smile. Good to know I'm so amusing to them.

"Max told me to give you something to eat." She hands me a plate and cup that I hadn't noticed was in her hands. Water and some dried substance that looks dubious, but better than nothing.

"It's better with meat, but I was kind of getting the impression that you weren't interested in that." It raises an eyebrow in question. I nod mutely and it goes back to the others. They're keeping me prisoner, but giving me a choice of entrée. That's…weird. Not that I'm gonna complain. Even if whatever-this-is does taste like sawdust.

The X-5's are all bunched around the fire, three of them still carefully facing me. There's no conversation at all. An odd rippling uneasiness runs down my spine at the foreignness of it, but I try to shake it off. Measured in intrigue, this is a dream come true. I need to keep my head in the game. Intrigue never throws mental or physical comfort into the deal though. I lie down and try to find a comfortable section of grass. The stars are peeking though the spaces in the overhead branches. I start to locate and whisper the constellations to myself. Anything to drown out the silence. 

There should be another chapter within 2-3 weeks. It varies according to how long this bout of carpal tunnel syndrome lasts, but I will try my best.


	5. Getting to Know You

AN: Hey! Almost on time! Thank you again for all of the reviews, they definitely get me writing faster. Yes, Dan forgetting that Max was said to be a guy was done on purpose. It's glazed over in this chapter, and will become significant later, probably several chapters down the road. And again, Alec will not be in this story. There will not be any romantic interest with Dan. Logan will be in the story several chapters down the road, and M/L will be obvious, but since it's through Dan's observations, and isn't the purpose of the story, just an aid, it will be very light. (No offence to anyone, but thank you very much for requesting that, even though I planned him in when I first thought of this plot. I'm also getting very tired of seeing nothing but M/A stories. M/L all the way.) Anyway, it's light enough that it shouldn't be offensive no matter what your shipper preferences. Logan helps the story, but is not a major player. That out of the way, please enjoy and review Chapter 5. The next chapter should be up in 3-4 weeks.

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Chapter 5

Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. These things have absolutely no concept of what hour of the day is decent to travel. Left foot. The sun hadn't even come up yet and they were shaking me, shoving more sawdust and water at me, and telling me to walk. Right foot. Not that they bothered to tell me _where_ I'm expected to walk to, I'm just randomly placing my trust in a bunch of super-weapon captors. Left foot. I wonder if they even know where they're going. Right foot. We don't seem to be going in any particularly straight line. This is probably their idea of fun, watching me suffer like this. Left foot. I am not a morning person.

"I don't give a damn whether you're a morning person or not, if you don't pick up the pace to something faster than a crawl, I'm gonna have Terk carry you. You really don't want to do that to yourself." A mocking, painfully cheerful voice comes from the transgenic beside me, the same one who brought me dinner last night. I dare a glower out of the corner of my eye, and just barely have time to dodge the swinging hand that comes from my other side. Jumping clear of the blow results in my stumbling backward and almost landing on my face, earning a snort of laughter from yet another one, and several smirks and grimaces, respectively. Oh boy. More fun with scaring the mere human. The one who tried to hit me spreads his fingers wide, a small smile half-formed on its face.

"I wasn't trying to hit you." Liar. I give him long enough eye-contact to let him know to not even try to make up some excuse, then turn and keep on walking, faster than before. Prolonged eye-contact could be perceived as challenging. If I want to get this story and stay in one piece, that's the last thing I need.

"You really can relax a little, you know." The annoying female who'd spoken to me first isn't ready to ignore me yet. Just keep my head down and keep on walking. "You act like you're expecting us to jump you or something. We're not gonna hurt you." That's the second time they've told me that. It's like calling yourself 'Honest John' or something. It extends its hand slowly, still keeping perfect stride with my now-very-brisk pace. "Look, I'll keep it simple. I'm Jondy. What's your name?"

"Dan." Leave me alone, I'm not worth your time…

"See? Successful initiation of preliminary contact." It goes on conversationally. The male jumps in sarcastically.

"And look. You came through it without a scratch. What a guy." Actually, now that I think about it, the more they talk, the more I have for the story. As long as they stay civil, it's probably in my best interests to do the same. I glance at the male.

"So…what's your name?" One small step for man… It graces me with a half-smile. Its eyes are…twinkling? What is it about me that is so d@mn funny to these things?

"Zane. Nice to meet you, even if the pleasure's yours." Huh? Oh. Following them. I should definitely stay away from that topic. 

"What about the others?" Zane gets a pleased look on his face. 

"The guy who was throwing a temper tantrum last night was Terk. He doesn't like you being here, you should probably stay out of his way." 

"Not that he'd hurt you." Jondy cuts in hastily. "It would just make everyone's life a little easier if you two didn't cross paths any more than is absolutely necessary." I eye the olive-skinned brown-haired male a few yards in front of me. Or the back of him anyway. It must have been able to hear them, but it gave no indication of any reaction whatsoever. Zane and Jondy seem docile enough, at least for the time being, but that one is broadcasting the kind of calm and patience that a stalker does. I'm not sure exactly how he manages this, he holds himself differently than the rest or something. I didn't need to be told to stay away from him. I turn my attention back to Zane as it continues.

"Syl's the blonde girl up there in front, Krit's next to her, Sean's the next one over, and Tess and Max are in front of us. Tess is the girl on the left, Max is on the right.

"That's the one who…" I didn't mean to blurt that out. Need to tread carefully here. "Had me stay?" I finish lamely. Zane smirks a little like it knows how carefully I phrased that, but nods. Jondy doesn't seem to share his amusement. It looks at me sternly.

"You should be grateful she's being so easy on you. A spy might as well be White as far as Terk's concerned, and Syl's almost as bad. They would have gotten who you work for out of you whether you got hurt in the process or not. Max talked them down." It gives me a hard look, and for a second its eyes flash, briefly sending my pulse up again. Then the look fades. "Much as she hates to let anyone see it, Maxie has a heart of gold. Unless she finds hard proof that you've already screwed us over, nothing's gonna happen to you, and even if she did find proof, you'd probably still get let off the hook somewhere where you can't do more damage. You should be thankful."

All I can do is blink, marveling at Jondy's speech. There wasn't anything in the reports about any of them having a problem with killing people, but I suppose it's possible that Max could have less of a taste for it than the others. The thing that interested me was that a 'heart of gold', however exaggerated, was seen as a good quality by something that has been raised to kill 'coldly, efficiently, and happily' by their commander what's-his-name, Lydecker. Besides that, the immediate strength of Jondy's defensive response implies that there is some kind of bond between the two. It does make sense that a unit would be designed to have some degree of loyalty among them. I must have overlooked that section of the reports, I should have gone over them better. Jondy is ignoring me again, but curiosity for myself and for facts for the story cannot be denied. 

"I was just asking." I hadn't meant for my voice to come out that unstable, but it should smooth ruffled feathers. I clear my throat. "Does that make…Max…your leader then? C.O., I mean?" 

"Not exactly."

"Sort of." They both answer at the same time, then fall silent, waiting for the other to finish. Zane finally rolls his eyes and continues.

"She'll settle debates…and really important decisions, like what to do with you…if we need a decision, and can't work it out logically, she makes it, but…not like a C.O. No one appointed her there, she just happens to have the personality to fill the need whenever it comes up, and we accept it because she's usually right." He raises his voice and calls to the back of Max's head. "But not always." Max ignores him, and he grins as he turns back to me. "The rest of the time she's just our baby sister." 

Baby sister? That even tops Jondy's line. And why had I thought that the Max Hensky told me about was a male? Hensky's never been wrong about a single story detail yet. I must have just heard the name and assumed. Why and where they got names would bring up another discussion, but the X-5's have lapsed back into silence, and I'm not going to push it. I've already gotten a lot in just a few minutes. And I'm definitely going to have plenty of time to get more. This is going to be so big by the time I'm done. Hensky's heart might stop cold just thinking about how big this story could get. National maybe. And I'm the one who's doing it, the one who's going to have their name attached to it forever. 

I keep almost silent for the rest of the day. The X-5s drop in and out of low conversations, always moving at the exact same speed. Hours pass, and with the addition to the effects of yesterday's runs, every step becomes torture. I don't even want to think about what reaction I'll get if I slow them down. The birds, trees, even the X-5s fade out of consciousness as I focus on the progression of each searingly painful step. 

I don't notice the sun steadily sinking in the sky, or the slow decline in the level of light coming through the trees. It comes as a complete shock when we stop for camp, and I consequently walk into Max's back. It whirls like I'd attacked it, fists half-raised before it even look at me. That's enough to jerk me back to reality, and I stumble back, hands spread to show I don't mean any harm. Max blinks as if it hadn't even seen me before, then drops its fists, letting its whole body relax. 

"Sorry. I thought…" Max scans the trees, then turns back to me apologetically. "You scared me." Jondy slings Max around the shoulders.

"You really gottta work on that startle reflex, girl. Nobody's getting anywhere near us without us knowing about it. Even if they did, there's eight of us. They wouldn't get very far. Relax." I stare. Jondy's tone is lightly bantering, but its eyes show deep concern. You don't, well I never, thought of these things as ever looking or acting like that. It's almost unnerving in a way, like watching a hawk swim.

"Handle it like we handled it yesterday?" Max's voice rings with a slight, almost imperceptible challenge as it watches Jondy's face somberly. A flash of…guilt? Crosses Max's face.

"Don't you dare start talking like that. We did all we could. If you want to blame somebody, blame White and his lapdogs." Jondy pauses, and her fingers tighten around Max's shoulder. "You did the best you could, Max. Mickey won't be forgotten." _Mickey. _My best friend. The kid that was killed yesterday, obviously, but it rings home for me. 

"I'm sorry." Everybody turns and looks at me. I swallow hard. "About the kid I mean. He must have…been a friend, and I'm sorry." The others are still watching me, but I keep my eyes on Max, the leader. She looks at me consideringly. 

"Thank you." She says carefully, then turns and nods at the others.

"It's time to start." Start what? But it apparently means something to the others. All with solemn or somber faces, they come and sit cross-legged in a loose circle, me slightly to the outside. Max nods at Syl, and slowly, calmly, and carefully, it begins to speak.

"The first time I met Mickey, I had no idea why. At first I thought he was into women that were older than he was, and was trying to hit on me in some weird, inventive way." She laughs a little, smiling distantly at the ground. "He had to tell me he was Manticore. Just saying that word scared me half to death. I made him show me his barcode…I never would have guessed cause, he was so smiling and friendly and joking. I mean you can count on most of us to be pretty reserved, especially with complete strangers but, Mickey wasn't like that. He liked everybody, and he was so excited, so starstruck about everything that's so much better out here. He was so full of life. Even when the hunts started, he was so optimistic that he'd be able…to live like everybody else. He really believed that he could, and that he'd be able to put everything else behind him. That all this would blow over. We all hope for that, but even before White got out his soapbox, I always had a hard time convincing myself that it would all stay behind me where I left it, that I'd be able to live like everybody else for the rest of my life. He could, and that always amazed me about him. This kid could push the Manticore dragons and nightmares aside, and be so happy, and believe more in a world that he'd lived in for nine months than I could after twelve years." She pauses and seems to collect herself. "Of everyone that Manticore cooked up, that I've met, Mickey was…the most fun to be around. He would always do his absolute best to make you smile when you were down, was always breaking any tense mood. He was one of those people that makes any place, any situation, seem not so bad…just by being there." She stops and turns to Krit, and he starts. When I first sat down I'd been glad just to get off my feet, and stop my muscles from aching so much. All the pain is gone now. I'm above that now, almost trancelike, taking in Syl's words, and hanging on all of Krit's. 

I'd barely even seen him, but I feel like I should be mourning him now after Syl's description of him. This must be their version of a funeral service, remembering the dead. It wasn't even in their unit though, it's so…startling…that they would feel bad for losing it. I didn't think they were programmed for that much depth of emotion, especially for someone who isn't one of their own. The tests said that they didn't usually. Maybe they picked this up from humans and mimicked it? Still, they sound sincere enough, and I listen respectively to each of their accounts of it, and then more, recounts of experiences with it, recaps of conversations with it, until, by the time it's over in the pre-dawn hours, I feel like I knew him.


	6. Reflections

AN: My internet connection has been down, but there's two new chapters up, so that should make up for it. I'm so sorryL. I meant them to be one chapter, but it got too long, so they're still kind of one idea. I hope you enjoy, and please R&R!

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Chapter 6

"Rise and shine sleepyhead!" That disgustingly cheerful voice is just part of a dream. I'm still sleeping because it's 

still night.

"Barricading yourself with denial won't change the facts, Dan. It's a beautiful morning…" It's not a dream, it's a nightmare. "The sun is shining…" No it's not. My subconscienceness is just trying to mess with my head. "The birds are singing…" Birds are not trustworthy on this subject, they have no internal clocks. Jondy's voice raises an octave and continues in a three-year-old sing-song imitation. "And it's time for Danny to get up!"

"You can't make me." I mumble, still keeping my eyes protectively sealed shut from the sun that is not there. Several snickers break out as a blast of icy water douses my entire body.

Spluttering, I leap to my feet. My eyes open in time to see Jondy giving Zane a high-five as they stroll toward the breakfast fire. Zane grins broadly at me over his shoulder, his eyes dancing with mischief. He has a bucket hanging from one hand.

"That. Wasn't. Funny." Water from my hair is running wintry trails down my back. Even with a warm ray of sunshine concentrated on me, I shiver as I sit down beside them, scowling sidelong at the pair of them. The smile disappears off of Jondy's face and she widens her eyes with innocence.

"It wasn't meant to be funny. We just assumed that, since you wouldn't wash with the guys when you had the chance, then by now your own odor must be overpowering to you. We were doing you a favor. Pretty soon you would have started attracting earthworms." That almost gets a smile out of me, but does little to my mood. I'm sopping wet and that was possibly one of the most unpleasant ways in the world to wake up. Jondy's innocent composure lasts another second, then is ruined when Zane gives a light snort.

"Your face…you really need to get a sense of humor, Dan. Come on, I mean look at yourself." Grudgingly, I look down at myself. The ground underneath me is now damp from the run-off. When I get up I'm going to have large splotches of mud on my pants. More slow drops are still working their way down the wrinkles in my clothes, removing some of the dirt that had built up on my once-white shoes. A drop of mud that used to be dirt slides off my cheek and lands at my feet. A small smile starts to quirk at my lips. I must look absolutely ridiculous. 

"That was still a rotten way to wake me up." 

"If you'd gotten up when we told you to, it wouldn't have happened." Jondy says lightly, passing a bowl of food. I take a hearty mouthful, then barely overcome the instinct to spit it out. Max made breakfast this morning. Since I'm an honorary prisoner or something, I'm not given any work. Otherwise, every chore is passed around the whole group, so I've sampled her cooking once before. It was enough to recognize it again.That time, Zane had told me in the barest of whispers that it was best to try and swallow as fast as you could, before your tongue or your gag reflex had a chance to react. Now he only winks at me sideways, trading subtle, amused glances with Syl and Terk. 

Terk. Of all of them, he's the only one who still honestly scares me, and the only one who still gives me the impression that my every move is being watched. Oh, I know they all still keep an eye on me, but no one else manages it with the same ready-to-bring-me-down-at-a-moment's-notice attitude projection. With the exceptions of when it's his turn to sentry while we're on the move, I've been within a hundred yards of Terk 24/7 for the last three days, but he still has yet to say a single word to me. He just watches me with predatory eyes. 

Breakfast ends quickly, immediately followed by, of course, walking in whatever random direction has been selected for today. I start moving with minimal awareness, deeply immersed in forming a firm analysis of each X-5 thus far.

The others seem at the least tolerantly disinterested, at the most, companionable. Jondy and Zane have apparently taken a particular interest in me, and have rarely left my side simultaniously since the first day. They could also just have been assigned as guards and are making the best of it, but half the time Zane seems little more than an overgrown kid, and when the mood strikes her, Jondy's not much better, so I have trouble passing it off as a complete act. It's made gathering the story much more pleasant, and much easier. They're more than happy so far to while the hours away answering questions, telling how they named themselves, giving the outlines of Zane's life since escaping, explaining the origin of the 'sibling' idea. 

I'm taking my time getting to the more painstaking questions: Why they escaped, why they're causing such a fuss all over the country, why for some reason Max refuses to carry a gun, and others. This isn't entirely of my own choice. I've tried bringing several of the questions that have been playing havok with my brain about casually, but, particularly around Jondy, they are skirted severely, bringing out rare solemnity in Zane and a dark overcast in Jondy's eyes as whatever defenses that had been down are brought back up. I'll let them become more used to me before I start to press again, and the more space I allow between each question, the more they will all seem like idle conversation anyway. I have plenty of time.

I've still only had limited if any direct contact with Syl, Krit, Tess, and Sean, largely because they seem to have little interest in talking to me like Jondy and Zane and, to some extent, even Max do. All of them are obviously still warey of me, still wondering exactly what it was that I was doing following them, but as far as companionship goes, they operate passively around me. 

Tess struggled at first with how to deal with my presence, but eventually settled on conveniently overlooking my existence whenever she talks to someone near me. She always manages to give me the impression that the words are being carefully aimed over my head, an impression that always brings me down to earth in my position as an outsider, and gets me back on task with the story. As far as her personality goes, she seems very down to earth, taking only mild interest in the constant practical jokes being played around her, and the majority of her conversation being rations, scouting reports, and possible camping areas. 

Sean, with me only knowing him for three days, is best described so far as a cross between Tess and Zane. He takes each of his designated responsibilities very seriously, but when he's not concerned with them, but is often linked in references to previous escapades of Zane's (seemingly at anyone's expense). At the very least, he is more than happy to match wits in any banter that strikes up between anybody. He's spoken to me, but only briefly, the kind of courtesy you'd bestow on a vague aquaintance who's suddenly turned up on your doorstep.

Syl and Krit are so far impossible to think about individually, they are a pair. During the day, they are the main sentries, and fit the profile exactly. Both hold up their ends of conversations that strike up, and function normally within the group, but are practically broadcasting restless unhappiness. I once saw a wolf that had been newly captured and placed in a zoo. The two of them remind me of that wolf. But as all of their emotions seem more directed at the world in general than me specifically, they don't scare me as Zane does. They merely strike me as disconcerting, and remind me to stay on guard.

We've been on the move for maybe an hour. The X-5s have broken into their usual divisions. Terk and Zane are off on sentry for now, but Syl and Krit are in the front, loosely followed by Tess and Sean, who are given a large following distance by me, with Max and Jondy's low murmurs barely reaching my ears, for all that they are only a few paces behind.

The two of them are almost inseperable. According to Zane, they've been closer than any of the others since before they learned to walk and talk. Jondy is fiercely devoted to Max, who only ever seems to truly smile around Jondy. 

I puzzle over Max for perhaps the dozenth time since I was captured. I don't like to be obsessive, but as a reporter, I like to understand the people around me, and as a general rule, I'm very good at it. Max is the only one that I don't really know what to make of yet, and the only one that I don't know where I stand with. Not knowing makes me…not scared, but definitely alert-and-aware around her. Cautious.

In her own way, she's been courteous to me, not as teasing as Jondy can be, or as formal as Sean, but courteous. Underneath that though is a scrutiny to match Terk's, excepting the predatory threat.


	7. Fear

AN: Continuation of Chapter 6's plan.

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Chapter 7

"You seem awfully quiet today Dan. You still sulking about being awake?" Max's voice breaks me out of my reverie. Translation: 'Anything wrong?' Very courteous. Let the games begin.

"Just thinking." She began making a point of striking up periodic conversations with me the day before yesterday. This has interesting results, considering that she uses them as a round-a-bout way to try to get information out of me at the same time I use them for the same thing. It degenerates into an elegant dance of questions with hidden intentions and answers with little or no meaning, all concealed in polite, freely-flowing conversation. 

"A penny for your thoughts." Her voice never fluctuates from wry calmness, almost indifference. This is only just beginning, but it won't change through the whole conversation. She's very good at this.

I think quickly for a response that isn't dangerous. As my pulse is still seemingly running at her sufferance, I walk on thin lines between blunt questions and my need for answers, and stubborn refusal and my need to protect my boss and my workplace. For reasons that I can't even begin to fathom, she's walking on edges that give her half of the conversation the same results. This gives little headway to anybody, but since I have the S-15s, I can rewind towards or at the end of this and pick up clues, hesitations in her voice, a shift of the eyes, anything, find consistencies, and go from there. 

"I haven't been in a forest since I was a kid." Inconspicuously relevant to my current situation to prevent suspicion, true in case she asks me any questions about it, and as far away as I can get from the subject of my job, which should stall her for awhile. I am immediately proven wrong. A flash of interest strikes her face. I brace myself for whatever hole she's found in that statement. 

"Your whole family go, or you have a boyscout troup or something?" 

"My family made it a trip every summer." Where is this going? Her eyes are intent on my face, her voice neutrally interested and relaxed. She sees an opening, but I have absolutely no idea what it is.

"Where'd you go?"

"We went to Yosemite."

"Your parents drag you out there to give you the 'country experience', or you live near there anyway?" 

"We lived in the city…my mom liked it better there, but my dad needed to get away every now and then, so they'd compromise and have my sister and I rough it a couple weeks a year." She's got something up her sleeve, something I'm going to walk right into it if I don't figure out what she's getting at soon.

"Why'd you live in the city? What'd your parents do?" I walk into it with my eyes closed.

"My mom worked as a hair stylist, before the pulse anyway, we didn't go after. My dad…" Was a journalist. Like me. No guesses what her next question will be, or at least the one after. I'm trapped. The second between her question and my answer stretches, then becomes two. Then three. Max is waiting, all the patience in the world residing in her face. 

Whatever I would have fabricated for the end of my sentence is cut off by an abrupt change in Max. Her face tightens as her eyes shift to the trees. All of her relaxed air in replaced by a spring of bunched muscles and squared shoulders. The only fraction of her attention still on me is used to warn me to silence. The line stops, and everyone around me goes through the same change. In less than a second, everyone is facing the same direction with identically expressionless faces. Except for mine, which probably just looks confused. 

This has never happened before, and I have no idea what sparked it or what it means. The lack of understanding of what they're doing is unnerving, as is the dead silence that blankets the X-5s as they watch the trees expectantly. It's so quiet that all of the animal noises stand out starkly.I can hear a squirrel chattering nearby, a wood-frog's low croaking, a birdcall that keeps on getting closer…

Zane and Terk burst out of the trees. Their jaws are set and their eyes hard. Zane's voice is clipped and urgent when he speaks.

"There're norms combing the forest in patterns about 3 miles behind us." Max opens her mouth, but Zane answers the unspoken question without a pause. "Neither of us got close enough to tell for sure, but it looks like White's guys. They're not wearing P.D. uniforms, and nobody else would have numbers like that, or be that organized." Now Max does speak, a commanding tone that I've never heard before sliding into her voice.

"What kind of numbers?" Zane trades a look and a low murmur with Terk before answering.

"Somewhere around 50." Tess takes a sharp intake of breath. On my right and left, I can see her and Sean wince.

"Familiars?" Jondy's voice would almost make it seem an idle question. Only the barest trace of concern for whatever a 'familiar' is betrays her. Neither Zane nor Terk answer. Max shakes her head slowly after a moment, her eyes distant.

"They don't usually come in numbers this big. And familiars would've gotten closer before we saw them." 

"Unless they're trying to flush us out somewhere." Krit enters his first participation. There is a large pause.

"Flushing us out means having a place that the press can't get to. More likely they're trying to close in on us." Max sounds somewhere between decisive and thinking aloud. "Best bet for that's escape and evade, just in case White's overturned a new leaf, don't go directly to Rendezvous 4, go around in a circle or something first, lose whatever tail you might have. If you get into trouble, call the number. Zane and Jondy take Dan. Go." The last is accompanied by an arm gesture. Jondy grabs me by the back of my collar and drags me backwards 9 feet before I get my footing again. Zane's taken the front, and Jondy thrusts me behind him, almost knocking me to the ground again.

I scramble to stay ahead of her, always reinforced with a sharp shove when I don't move quickly enough. The friendly Jondy I'd been beginning to know is gone, replace with a tight-lipped, cold-eyed, unforgiving…soldier. The one who I've only seen flashes of before. The one that a government operation called Manticore designed. 

Zane has changed in the same way. There are no jokes now, no relaxed and easy-going man in front of me. Instead, there is a swift, solemn, straight-backed example of military training. This is what Manticore created. Someone who's ready to fight and kill at a moment's notice. I still don't think he or Jondy would really hurt me, but they do seem different. Focused. Harder. All of the rest of the X-5s, when I saw them in the circle, seemed harder too, like some of their more human traits had been washed away. I'd been starting to think that the government and White were over-reacting, that maybe some of the reports on the X's and their design were exaggerated. It's still possible, since the only change in them so far has been in their demeanor, but seeing them like this makes the claims easier to believe. 

Zane sets a grueling pace. By my standards anyway, neither of them even seem winded. We're not quite running, but close to it, and we've been keeping it up for almost two hours. I have a stitch in my side, my lungs are burning, and every muscle in my body seems to ache. The shoves from Jondy are becoming more frequent, and fiercer. My failure to keep up seems to irritate her more every time. 

One particular push is twice as hard as the one before it, and I crumple to the ground in a heap beside a bush, gasping for air. All I can feel is a hazy relief for having stopped. It is a full ten seconds before I realize that Zane and Jondy are both on the ground with me. Jondy has a hand on my back to keep me from rising. Something's wrong.

When I continue to pant, Jondy gently but firmly places her hand over my mouth. She's almost lying on top of me.

"Keep quiet." If her lips hadn't been almost touching my ear, I never would have heard it. All the same, Zane scowls at both of us and puts a finger to his lips. Something is very wrong. I carefully slow my breathing, softening it. My lungs are burning, but whatever would scare two grown X-5s is enough to make me not notice. 

Seconds pass, then minutes. I can feel Jondy stop breathing altogether. Soft crunching sounds, like several people walking, are coming toward us. In another second I see them: five men moving slowly, barely making a sound on the twigs and sticks beneath them. They'd gotten right on top of us without me hearing a thing. I follow Jondy's lead and hold my breath. Even though it's unlikely that these people have any interest in me, illogical fear begins to twist my stomach. My heart is pounding, so loudly that they must hear it from ten yards away. I can feel sweat building in my palms.

Through the bush, I can see them clearly. All have guns, though I have no idea what kind, and four of them are holding theirs ready in their hands. Those four are scanning the trees and ground-line in every direction with sharp eyes and hard faces. They look like murder walking. The fifth has his gun slung over his shoulder, and has eyes only for a small device in his hands. He stops suddenly, and turns to look directly at us. Zane and Jondy both grip something in their boots. He must be able to see us now, I feel like a deer in headlights. I'm not sure I'll be able to move when they start toward us. The guy checks his device again, and I can see him swallow hard. He motions his men on again.

As they continue past us, and their sound fades, all three of us exhale simultaneously. The X's take their hands away from their boots and slowly stand up, bewilderment momentarily replacing their expressionless masks.

"They had a heat sensor, why didn't they…?" Zane starts softly, but Jondy cuts him off. 

"Maybe they thought they were outmatched. Let's take luck while we've got it and go." I get up, just as soon to have more distance between me and the five of them, but Zane doesn't move.

"But they would have had rein-"

"Come on!" Jondy starts walking and motions me to follow.

"It doesn't feel right. White'll kill them himself if he finds out they abandoned an order. They know that." But his voice sounds relenting, and he's moving again. Nobody says another word.

They were afraid. The sudden realization processes in my brain. I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it. The reports I read said they were taught that nothing mattered as long as the objective was accomplished and Manticore was safe. Nothing. They were designed and trained to ignore fear, but they were scared today. Maybe…they're not as hard as I was thinking they were. 

Several hours of walking later, long after twilight has blanketed the forest, lights begin to shine ahead of us. A town. I'm actually going to sleep in a building tonight. Amazing. Even through the haze of exhaustion and strained muscles, I can't help hoping that that's why we're heading toward lights. More lights shine through the trees, then more, looking like fireflies gathering in the darkness. Finally the trees end, and I'm standing on the outskirts of civilization, looking at a small, scattered clump of houses. Jondy and Zane hurry me into the second of these, watching over their shoulders cautiously. This must be rendezvous four.


End file.
